


Speed Date

by arbitrary4192



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bloodplay, Cannibalism, Consensual Gore, Consensual Violence, F/M, Gore, Guro, Knifeplay, Medical Kink, Mutilation, Organ Removal, Original Fiction, self harm tw, sorry this is so weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 15:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arbitrary4192/pseuds/arbitrary4192
Summary: Troubled twentysomething Lily meets up with med student Dan to fulfill some very dark desires.





	Speed Date

**Author's Note:**

> I write gore now I guess. Tons of thanks to my friend B for beta'ing/cheerleading/listening to me talk about this for two months.

Lily met him at the apartment doorstep on a sunny March midmorning. He was thinner than she’d expected, and older, an Asian man in his mid-twenties with dyed-blond hair and a Supreme t-shirt.

An air-conditioned breeze escaped the lobby, welcome after ten hours of airliners and cars. He glanced over her once, deliberately, with soft brown eyes that stayed businesslike. “Need a hand with the bag?” he asked.

She’d brought a few days’ worth of clothes. She didn’t know how long she was going to be staying. He hadn’t said anything specific on the post, but she figured that it would probably be most of her spring break.

“Thanks,” she said, and passed it to him.

They walked through the concrete lobby without speaking. The tension was there, but she didn’t address it. She didn’t want to say anything until they got to his apartment, and she didn’t blame him for feeling the same way. What they were doing wasn’t the sort of thing you talked about, especially in a room that echoed.

In the elevator, he turned to her. “So, uh. Hey.”

“Hey,” she said, and aimed a shy little smile at the ground.

“You’re Lily?”

“Yeah. What’s your…”

“Dan,” he said, and stuck his hand out. His voice was deep and not unpleasant. “Uh, Dan.”

She hesitated, then took it and shook. It felt completely inappropriate and she wanted to giggle. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Well, uh, yeah.” He looked down at their joined hands, sounding as if he’d belatedly realized he was being awkward. “You too.”

The elevator chimed. They’d reached his floor. She followed him out as the doors opened, then down a short carpeted hallway to his apartment door.

“This is– ” he fiddled with his keys, “– me.”

Lily followed him through the door with a bounce in her step. “Wow,” she said, looking around. “Nice place.”

It was a modern, hardwood-floor and stainless-steel kind of affair, with big single-pane windows that opened onto a gorgeous San Francisco skyline. The open-plan kitchen had a Keurig and a smart fridge, with a bunch of bananas and some cereal boxes scattered on the countertop. A jacket was flung over the plush sofa, and a PS4 and Nintendo Switch sat on the pile carpet next to the TV in a mess of cables.

“Yeah,” said Dan. “I just moved in.” He set down her bag, dropped his keys on the counter, then turned around, leaning against the marble-topped island. “So, uh. Do you want to talk about– ”

She surprised herself with how quickly she broke in. “The post?”

He clasped his hands in front of him. “Yeah.”

“Well.” Lily smiled and spread her arms, stepping forward into the apartment. “Here I am. One young woman, age eighteen to twenty-six, brunette…” She laughed. “Uh…”

“You look great,” he said, with what looked like a sincere smile.

“Thanks,” she said. She was wearing a crappy long-sleeved graphic tee from Forever 21 and a pair of old yoga pants. She also hadn’t showered in, like, a day.

“You just get in from Boston?”

“Yeah. I got an Uber from the airport.”

They fell silent again for a second before Dan gestured towards the cream-colored sofa. “You can sit down, if you want,” he said.

Lily stifled a giggle.

“What?” he said.

“Nothing, I just…” She went to sit down. Then she said, “You’re serious, right?”

“About this?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Totally.”

“You’re not like I expected.”

“How so?” He looked up.

She laughed. “You’re so awkward!”

“What, aren’t…” He hesitated, then laughed too, nervously. “It’s kind of hard not to be.”

“You sounded so confident in the forum post!”

“Yeah, and on Tinder I say I’m 6’3”.” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

Really, though, what had she been expecting? Some domineering hunk? Hannibal Lecter? He was an awkward twentysomething. The world was full of awkward twentysomethings. “It’s okay,” said Lily. “I’m… a little nervous too.”

“I don’t blame you.” With a half-laugh, he stepped away from the island. “But, like, actually– ” he added, “I mean, at any point, if you decide you’re not into this– ”

“I am.”

“Okay,” said Dan. “Cool.” He pointed towards a hallway branching off from the kitchen. “So I’ve got a spare room down there. Just drop your stuff off. You’ve got your own bathroom, I just made the bed, uh…”

The uncertain formality of people fucking strangers. Lily nodded. “So when are we doing it?”

Shit, she was sounding all… businesslike. Maybe _she_ was being awkward. Maybe it was actually pretty normal that he wanted to take their first face-to-face conversation slow. Especially given, well, everything.

But he seemed happy to follow. “If you’re ready, tonight,” he said. “Late. You shouldn’t eat anything for a couple of hours before, but we can do an early dinner if you want.”

“Where?”

“In here,” he said with a slight smile. “I’ll put down some sheets on the floor and close the blinds. And I was thinking _you_ could lie down here.” He patted the island.

“Mm,” said Lily. “On the kitchen counter. Like meat.”

“Yeah,” said Dan, and for the first time his voice caught a bit of eager intensity. “Exactly. Just like meat.”

*****

Lily put her bag in the spare room, then went to the bathroom and spent some time arranging her hair and washing her face clean of the sticky grime of air travel. She scrubbed her cheeks with her hands, patted them dry with a towel, and then gazed at herself in the mirror.

It was hard to believe that she was here. Two days ago, she’d been in class taking notes on Nancy Cott. But last month she’d found that post, right in the forum’s off-topic chat section, and before the mods had swooped down to delete it she’d managed to get in contact with Dan. And now –  here she was. _California_ , for God’s sake.

Lucky. She felt very lucky.

She drew back her left sleeve. Underneath was a rumpled white dressing secured with surgical tape, soaked through with blood that had dried to a tough maroon crust. With fingernails painted rosé pink, she eased the tape off her skin, then peeled the dressing off entirely.

A long, gaping cut split the delicate flesh of her forearm, slashing through a pale nest of older scars. It wasn’t even close to healing. Congealing blood stood out rich red against the deeper soft tissue, the spreading lobes of yellow-white fat.

Carefully, Lily slid her arm into the sink, then grimaced as she turned on the tap and cool water flowed over it. With her other hand, she squirted some liquid soap into her palm and cleaned the wound as well as she could. Then she got a fresh towel and patted it dry, leaving crimson traces on the white cotton. A little gasp escaped her throat as the soft fabric daubed exposed fat, gentle as down feathers.

Filthy, sexy. Wonderful.

Always the same feeling, the one she’d had when she was fifteen, looking up gore on incognito mode on her school Chromebook, holding a box cutter to her thigh. The same narcissistic thrill, the peculiar sense of defiance, the rushing urge to break her mediocre body open like a geode and play with the delights inside.

Reaching into her little blue toiletry bag, she got out a sterile pad and a roll of tape, and started to reapply the bandage. Five minutes later, the wound was dressed and her face was clean, and she stepped out into the kitchen to find Dan.

He was sitting on the sofa, hunched over his phone. The midday sunlight falling through the windows lit up his thin, well-shaped face and gave his hair the warm cast of golden thread.

“Oh, yo,” he said. “I just ordered some lunch. Do you like Subway?”

“Yeah,” said Lily. She tossed her hair back and started bunching it up into a ponytail. “Subway’s good.”

Dan frowned. “Aw, I liked your hair down.”

“Really?” she said. “Okay,” and let it fall. Then she walked over and sat next to him on the sofa. “So. Do you _actually_ wanna talk about this?”

“Yeah. You’re Lily, you responded to my post, you came to California to see me.” He hesitated. “You want to lie down on the kitchen counter and have me cut your belly open.”

“And then?” She drew the words out, dangling them like bait, hoping he’d latch on.

“You want me to take an organ. A kidney or a bit of liver. And… eat it.”

Normal conversation. C’mon. Stop pushing him.

But she was impatient. “That’s what your post said, right?” she said. “ _26-year-old medical student, male, seeking 18-26-year-old pretty brunette to disembowel and fuck_? Something about _slice a girl open and see her insides_? _Butcher her? Carve off her flesh and consume it together_?” She spread her hands. “Here I am.”

Still looking mostly at the floor, he gave a quiet, shy laugh. “Yeah. That was the… general point of it.”

She thought of something, suddenly. “Do you think I’m a cop?”

“I mean,” he said. “You know, I’m just– ”

“Because look.” She rolled up her sleeve again, revealing the dressing, then peeled off a strip of tape to show him the wound that gaped underneath. “I did this before I came here. I’m not a cop.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s– ” He leaned towards her, his hair falling in his eyes as he looked closer. “Yeah. That’s, um. Hot.”

“Mm _hm_.”

“Why’d you do it?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She replaced the dressing and rolled her sleeve back down. “Fun.”

“To show you weren’t a cop?”

“That, maybe. But mostly just fun.” It was deeper than she’d ever cut before, and longer. But in her anticipation of tonight she’d been eager to –  really felt like she’d _had_ to –  push her boundaries.

“Do you cut, you know, usually?”

“Pretty usually.”

“Then this isn’t new to you?”

Lily pushed strands of lank brown hair back from her face. “Cutting isn’t new to me, no. I mean– ” She smiled. “Getting vivisected might be.”

“Well, yeah.” He was still taking little glances at her sleeve, as if expecting her to roll it back up and expose the wound again.

“What, you’ve never practiced before?”

“I’ve practiced on cadavers. At med school. But, you know.”

Lily nodded. “Were you into that?” Somehow, she was hoping that he’d reveal himself as a necrophiliac or something. Jerking off after the lecture to the thought of cold bodies donated to science, maybe even creeping into the morgue. Something a bit gross, a bit dangerous.

“I don’t really like dead girls,” said Dan.

Shame. But she felt like she’d gotten his interest, and she wasn’t going to let herself be that easily disappointed. “Why not?”

“It’s… a turn-off when the pain stops.”

Edgelord! She leaned over and snuggled against his side. “Well, lucky for you, you’ve got a live one to play with.”

Dan looked surprised for a second, then smiled slightly and put his arm around her shoulders. “Live ones are all right.”

And now Lily gave herself full permission to have the feelings that had started in the bathroom, the hot, butterflies-in-her-tummy thrill, the insistent little hunger for–  for something. Sex. Blood. Him.

All the way to fucking _California_ , she’d come.

“I was starting to get worried.” And she placed a delicate kiss on his lips.

And to her enormous satisfaction he reciprocated, leaning into it as his mouth pushed hers back with real pressure. His lips were soft and tasted like chapstick and cigarettes. “Yeah?” His tongue eased between her teeth for a second, then he broke away, sliding his arm around to grip the back of her head. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”

And he kissed her again, tentatively at first and then nakedly dominant, probing hard with his tongue, worrying her lower lip with his teeth. She felt flushed, sweaty, suddenly way more aroused than she’d ever been in three years of Tinder and frat boys and cheap liquor. He gripped her wounded arm and she whimpered into his mouth.

With firm, gentle fingers – _medical fingers_ , she thought, _doctor’s hands, bedside manner_ – he shoved the T-shirt sleeve up to her elbow, rumpling the dressing. As he started peeling the tape away in calm precise motions she murmured _yes_.

He yanked the fresh dressing off. Her skin stung as the tape ripped away, the cut throbbed in the open air, and she already knew what he was going to do even before he moved his mouth away from hers. _Yes_ , she kept whispering, hasty and passionate into the warm atmosphere between them, _yes, yes._

Dan obliged her. He bowed his head low over her lap as he seized her arm with both hands, gripping the old scar tissue, dimpling the flesh. Lily wondered if his fingertips could feel the pulse hammering inside her. She felt a moment pass–  she hesitated– and then his mouth touched the lips of the open wound.

His tongue probed deep, and it hurt, but not too badly; there were barely any nerves in the fat she’d exposed, and the torn edges of skin sent curious disjointed sensations shivering up her arm. With her free hand she stroked his hair, matching his motions as he licked up and down, tasting the fat, the blood, the raw living body.

“Please– ” His hot breath flowed over her damp skin as his tongue eased into her as far as it could. Shit. She wanted a knife, a razor, to open herself deeper and let him in–

“You like that?” he asked.

“Yes, please– ”

“You little pain slut, you like that?”

It sounded silly, but Lily was way past caring, and she moaned _yes_ again as he shoved his tongue down into the bed of soft tissue. She could feel an insistent warmth gathering around her crotch, a teasing chill dancing over her skin.

“Can I– ” she started.

“Can you what?”

“Can I… can I please touch myself?”

He paused and raised his head, wearing a smug, eager smile. The nervous boy of a few minutes earlier was gone. Red-brown smudges marked the skin around his mouth, the pointed chin, the angular jawline. “Yes,” he said. “You can touch yourself.”

And he went back to kissing her arm, in and out, probing, hungry, as she obediently slipped her right hand inside her panties and watched sunlight reflections on the skyscrapers across the bay.

*****

Fingering herself on the couch turned into quick, messy shower sex, which in turn led to lying naked together on Dan’s bed while he played Battlefield 1 on a chunky gaming laptop and she listened to music on her phone. Dan had a track runner’s body, thin and tough, and a tattoo of a lion’s head on his bicep. Sometimes between games he’d lean over and run his fingers through her hair. She wondered how it was going to feel when he cut through her abdominal wall.

They continued like that for most of the afternoon, their earlier awkwardness forgotten, pausing once to eat the sandwiches Dan had ordered and another time for Lily to dress her arm again and do her makeup. Dan took advantage of the second break to go into the kitchen and set things up for the night to come. When she finished her makeup, she came out of the bedroom to watch him disinfecting and draping, bringing in a cart of medical equipment and an IV line. Standing shyly by the couch, she nursed a low, vibrant excitement, a little hot coal warming her from the inside.

They got dressed to go out for dinner around five. Lily hadn’t ever been to San Francisco, but Dan recommended an Asian-fusion place in Pacific Heights. They spent the twenty-minute Uber ride there holding hands in the back seat.

Because they were eating early, the place was mostly empty, its potted bamboo plants and for-sale abstract artwork accompanied by tasteful piano playing from hidden speakers. Only a few other dinner patrons had arrived: a group of burly, silver-haired investors were drinking red wine at the bar, and over in the corner, a squat, elderly man with a bald pate and ill-fitting suit sat hunched over a plate of chicken tempura.

“So,” said Dan, once their drinks had arrived, “how’d you get into this?”

“Gore?”

“Yeah. And, you know… wanting to meet with me.”

Lily shrugged and impulsively stole another glance at herself in the mirror behind the bar. She’d changed into her best outfit, a slim black dress with a long-sleeved white bolero jacket to cover her ruined arm. “What,” she said, smiling. “You want the whole story?”

“Yeah, I mean– ” Dan took a sip from his glass of Rolling Rock. For his part, he pulled off a perfect frat-boy look in a charcoal-gray blazer and pale blue tie that paired nicely with his blond hair. Together, they looked like they might have been going to a college formal.  “I made that post a bunch of times. Like five or six. You’re the first person who was ever really interested.”

“Hmm.” She poked with her straw at the maraschino cherry floating in her cocktail. “I got into it when I first started cutting, I guess. Like when I was fourteen or fifteen.”

“Yeah?”

“I followed a bunch of blogs on Tumblr that were– you know. Pro-self-harm and stuff. Like, it was 2012 Tumblr, nobody gave a fuck.”

“Right, yeah.” He nodded.

“And I don’t know.” She shrugged again. “I think there was this one girl, I forget her name, but she posted a lot of gore. I was like, _oh, wow,_ _that’s hot_. Little tenth-grader me.”

“Like, guro, or _gore_ gore?”

“Gore gore. Like dead soldiers, accident victims. I started looking at guro too because it was so much easier to find, but that was a bit later.” The ice clinked in her glass as she took a sip of her drink. “Oh. I found out I really liked short stories, too, once I started going to forums. Snuff erotica. That’s actually how I found your post.”

Dan slid his chopsticks out of their paper wrapper and snapped them apart from each other. “And you always saw yourself as the one getting killed?”

“Yeah. Empathizing with the victim is what turned me on. And when I was around sixteen I started having these–  I guess you’d call them intrusive thoughts. These fantasies, where I’d get strangled, tortured to death, whatever.” She laughed. “Probably because I was looking at so much fucking gore.”

He was watching her closely now, gazing over the rim of his beer glass. “And you decided to just… live that out one day?”

“I’m about to graduate. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. This feels meaningful.” With her pink fingernails, she fished the cherry out of her glass and ate it. “I’m a millennial, you know. Just trying to have _experiences_.”

She looked over Dan’s shoulder. The bald man in the badly fitted suit immediately avoided eye contact and seemed to focus very intently on his chicken tempura.

“What?” asked Dan. He glanced behind him at the man. “Oh, is he– ” Quickly, he turned back to Lily. “Um. Maybe we should talk about something normal.”

She laughed. “You’re blushing!”

“I’m just–  c’mon.” His face got redder, and he took a large sip of his beer. “Let’s not talk about gore in the sushi place, okay?”

“You’re adorable.”

“Please, no, though. Actually.”

“Okay.” She twirled the straw around in the cocktail glass. “Hey, look, the waiter’s coming.”

The waiter was a white guy in his late twenties with a full brown beard, receding hair pulled back into a bun, and gauges in his ears. He offered to refill their water glasses, then asked them if they’d decided on their order.

“Yes, please,” said Dan. “I’ll get the twelve-piece nigiri platter with chickpea fries to start.”

Lily had completely forgotten about her menu. She glanced at it for about five seconds and then passed it to the waiter. “And I’ll get a, um, crunchy shrimp roll.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t have crunchy shrimp,” he said. “I can do a California roll?”

“Sounds great. Thanks.”

“All right.” He finished writing the order down and nodded to them. “We’ll get that out to you as soon as we can.”

Lily watched him leave. She asked, “So. Dan. What’s something normal to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” he said, with a slight smile. “Maybe the menu. Did you get a good look at it?”

“Shut up!”

They were both laughing over their drinks. Lily liked the way Dan’s cheeks plumped up when he smiled, and the way a few strands of his hair fell over his brow. He really did look like some carefree frat-party boy.

“Um,” he said, still laughing. “Okay. Something normal.” He took a drink of beer and paused for a second, as if considering. “So, uh, you said you don’t know what you want to do, what’s up with that?”

“I mean, that’s it,” said Lily noncommittally. “I just don’t know what I want to do with my life.”

“So instead you’re… you know?”

“Yeah.” She sipped from her straw. “Basically.”

“Is there anything you’re into? Any hobbies?”

“I like reading, I guess. Maybe makeup and clothes. I don’t know.”

“Are you thinking about grad school?”

“Not really.” Lily felt a strong desire to distract herself from the topic at hand. She pulled her chopsticks out of their wrapper and snapped them apart as well. “I don’t know. I sent off a couple of job applications. I might just find someplace to live and work at Target or something for a few years.”

“Aw,” said Dan. “You can do better than that, I bet.”

“Maybe. I mean, look. I don’t have my shit together. ” She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. “But, like, what kind of responsible citizenship were you expecting from the person who answered that post?”

“Yeah,” said Dan. “I guess.”

“You’ve seen my arms and legs. You know what I’m letting you do to me.” She propped her chin on her hand. “This isn’t the sort of thing that people with high self-esteem and good futures _do."_

“Yeah.” Dan nodded slightly, glancing away from her. “We don’t have to–”

“No,” Lily said. “I want to.”

“Okay,” said Dan. “Don’t guilt me, then.”

“I’m not _guilting_ –” She crossed her arms. “Then don’t interrogate me about my future.”

“I’m sorry, Lily.”

The hardness in his voice stopped her. This was rapidly becoming an argument she didn’t want to have. It absolutely wasn’t worth ruining her night. Why had she even brought that stuff up?

Deep breath.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry too. That was rude of me.”

“We can talk about it if you want,” he said, and she was relieved to hear that he didn’t sound angry.

Moving her drink, Lily drew a streak with her finger in the ring of condensation that it left. “There’s not much to say. Everything feels pointless and I’m not going anywhere. Coming here was just–  it’s like a big fuck-you to all that. I don’t want to be a good American girl, I’d rather be meat.”

“I get you,” said Dan. “That’s real.”

“Thanks, I guess,” she said, and reached across the table to hold hands. “I don’t know, let’s talk about something else.”

“Sure,” he said. “Are we good?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, feeling his fingers intertwine with hers. “You didn’t say anything wrong. I’d just rather not talk about it. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Are you sure about this, though? I just don’t want you to regret it later.”

“I won’t.”

“I mean… that stuff you were saying about self-esteem…”

“All that matters is right now,” she said. “Look, I don’t know, maybe if my life was different I’d change my mind. But _this_ is my life, and I’ve made my decision. Please, Dan. I was just… being stupid.”

“Okay,” he said.

She placed her other hand on his. “Earlier today was amazing. I want us to have more of that.” And then, more quietly, she added, “And, to be honest, I am the only person you’re _ever_ going to find who wants you to vivisect her.”

“Yeah.” He gave a slight smile. “I guess I can’t really argue with that. All right. I believe you.”

“Thank you,” said Lily.

Dan finished the last of his beer and put the glass aside. “I just want this to be good for both of us.”

“Don’t worry. I promise you it will.” The irony wasn’t lost on her that, out of all the people she’d hooked up with in her life, _he_ was the one getting hung up on consent and mental health. “You’re being more considerate than ninety percent of the guys I met back in Boston.”

“Thanks.” He smiled more brightly. “What’s wrong with being considerate, anyway?”

“Nothing. It’s just funny.”

“Hey, just because I have a kink doesn’t make me Hannibal Lecter.”

Lily laughed again.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she repeated.

And she leaned across the table to kiss his cheek, disregarding the other patrons, happy just to be here with him on what she very much hoped would stay a perfect night.

*****

They got back to the apartment late that night. Dan really did seem to have put his second thoughts to rest. After dinner, he had taken Lily to see _Captain Marvel_ at a theater, then they’d spent an hour or two walking up and down the waterfront, watching tourists pass by. Afterwards they’d stopped by a mall and visited Sephora, where Dan bought a $49 eyeshadow palette for Lily over her protestations. Between the apartment and the way he was spending on their night out, she wondered what his parents did.

Soon enough, though, they were home.

On the elevator ride up to the fifth floor Lily felt a sense of blissful unreality closing over her. She couldn’t imagine what tonight was going to be like, and she was desperate to find out. It felt like when she’d first arrived at college and her roommate Laura had gotten her hands on a couple tabs of acid, and in between nervously dissolving one on her tongue and the drug kicking in she’d felt stretched out, frozen in midair, hanging in the liminal space between this world and one that up until then she’d only ever imagined could be real.

“What do you need me to do once we get back?” she asked Dan quietly.

“Everything’s set up already,” he said. “I just need to change.”

The elevator reached his floor. Lily trailed behind him to the apartment door, and then followed him inside.

This wasn’t the first time she’d seen the kitchen like this –  she’d watched him set it up – but now the reality of the scene seemed to hit her all at once. There, on the island draped with plastic –  that was where she was going to be lying. Soon those sterile-wrapped scalpels on the cart would be kissing her flesh, the gleaming steel forceps and clamps probing deep within. A chemical smell of disinfectant hung over everything.

She went over to the kitchen sink to wash her hands. “Where did you get all of this stuff?”

“I bought some of it,” he said, wheeling an IV bag on a metal frame over to the island. “Some of it I stole. I’m an intern at the UCSF Medical Center.”

“Daring.”

“Thanks,” he said. “So, uh… we’re really doing this?”

She toweled her hands off and nodded.

“Okay.” He walked over next to her and started washing his hands as well. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Go ahead and strip, then.”

Lily felt too nervous and excited to be sexy about undressing. Fumbling, she undid the awkward zipper behind her back, then slid the dress down her body and stepped out of it. She kicked it aside, and stood there in her lacy white bra and panties, shivering despite the warmth in the glaring light and disinfectant smell.

“Okay, climb up onto the counter and lie down.” He was starting to sound more confident, more professional, like he was finding his footing in the scene. “I’m going to put a needle in your back and give you an epidural anaesthetic. That way you can be conscious when we, um…” She was slightly gratified to see his eyes lingering on her body. “You won’t feel anything. Is that okay?”

“Yes, please.” She pushed herself up onto the island, swinging one naked leg up, then the other. The dressing on her arm by now was speckled with rust-colored blood spots.

Dan pushed a pillow from the sofa under her head. “Now lie on your side.”

She rolled over, facing away from him. He busied himself with something –  she felt his gloved fingers touching her skin – and then a sharp pain in the small of her back drew a gasp.

“Shh,” said Dan. “It’s the epidural. Hold on.”

More pressure, something sticky, the feeling of gauze and tape being applied.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Okay.”

She breathed out sharply. The IV line pressed against her skin was a strange, cold feeling, and she found herself getting impatient in spite of herself. Come on, she thought. “How long is this going to take to kick in?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes.

He leaned over and brushed her cheek with his hand. “Sorry, baby.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “Go change.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” He turned and disappeared down the hallway.

Lily rolled over, feeling the IV line beneath her, and stared at the ceiling. She felt sexy. She felt like a fucking _treat_. Her belly, smooth and pale, with the little bump of fat she’d never really been able to get rid of; her thighs, crosshatched with eight years of scars. They were flawed, but they were hers, and they were _wanted_.

She couldn’t wait to be eaten.

After a few minutes of waiting, her legs and abdomen had started to get numb. She half-wished that Dan had left some music playing, or that she had a laptop to watch Netflix on, but really she didn’t think that she’d have been able to concentrate. What would it feel like, she kept wondering? Pressure? A pinch? Experimentally, she ran a pink fingernail down the midline of her stomach. No sensation. Cold, unfeeling skin.

Dan reappeared several minutes later, coming back around the corner into the kitchen. He’d gotten changed into mint-green scrubs, a pale blue cloth cap, and a surgical mask, and he was carrying a makeup mirror with a stand.

“Hey.” He put the mirror down on the floor. Taking two pairs of sterile gloves from the box on the instrument cart, he pulled one over his hands with a snap of latex, then passed the second to Lily. “How are you doing?”

“Pretty numb.” She tugged the gloves on.

“Good.” He crossed to the island and leaned over her, peering down over the top of the mask. She’d never had a real medical kink or anything, and the outfit mostly just made him look like the young, inexperienced student he was, but there was an earnestness, a cute professionalism in his commitment to getting all the details right. “Any second thoughts?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m just going to give you an antibiotic first.” He picked up a syringe from the cart, uncapped it, and eased it into her arm vein before pushing the plunger down, then discarded it.

Now he reached down, picked up the mirror, and set it beside her, angling it so that it gave her an unobstructed view of her own stomach gently rising and falling with her breath. With a swab from the instrument cart, he wiped the area down with yellow-brown iodine. Then he reached down and picked up one of the scalpels.

At the sight, Lily felt her heart start to beat faster. She could see that his hands were trembling as well, but only a little. As he started peeling open the plastic wrap, she asked, “Dan?”

He paused. “Hm?”

“Could you… do something for me first?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “What is it?”

“Could you cut a little heart or something? Just– ” She touched her left thigh. “Here. As something to remember this by.”

“Oh, aw, that’s cute.” He laid down the scalpel and reached for another iodine swab. “Okay.”

As she watched him smear the iodine over her leg, she asked, “What’s your last name?”

He paused. “Choi.”

“Mine’s Misham,” she said. “Can you write that? Please? Our initials?”

With a gloved hand, he patted her shoulder. “Yeah. Of course, baby.”

Carefully, he pulled the scalpel out of its wrapper, then slipped off the protective cap. The blade gleamed in the kitchen’s fluorescent lighting as he laid it against her thigh. Then he made a short, decisive cut.

Lily felt nothing, but her heart was racing anyway, and she made a little gasp as her skin parted. She felt suddenly flushed, and realized what a tremendous shame it was that the nerves in her vulva were probably numbed. Fuck. She would give a lot to be able to jerk off to this.

With measured, precise movements, Dan carved a neat inverted V into the pale skin of her leg, then finished the shape with four quick cuts. Blood oozed out in warm, deep-red rivulets, trickling down her thigh and staining the edge of her panties.

“Shh.” He started making the cuts for their initials. “Just lie still.”

In a minute or two, a new, glistening red heart shone on Lily’s upper thigh, jagged bloody letters marking out _DC+LM._

Lily let out the breath that she’d been holding. “Thank you.” She felt shaky, energized, high as she reached down to touch the droplets, her fingertips painting a red streak across her skin. “I love it.”

He pulled down his surgical mask and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. “Wanna really get started now?”

“Yes.” She kissed him back. “Fucking gut me.”

Dan reached for another scalpel and ripped open the plastic packaging. This time he laid it firmly against her abdomen. For a second, everything seemed to pause, balanced on a razor edge of possibility, and then he drew the scalpel smoothly down.

The skin parted easily. His first cut exposed clean white fat, a narrow line running right down the center of Lily’s belly, from a little below her breasts to just past her navel. She watched, mesmerized, and felt a shivery rush of endorphins despite the absence of pain.

“Okay?” he said.

“Y–  yeah. Please. Keep going.”

Precisely, neither quickly nor slowly, he made a second cut in the same place, and then another. The opening gaped wider and wider, ripping through flesh, deeper than Lily had ever done to herself. Lobes of fat gave way to meaty bundles of deep red fascia. Blood oozed out, but only a little.

Dan traced one finger down the middle of the slit, and she shivered. “Good?”

Lily nodded wordlessly, eyes fixed on the incision. The mirror standing next to her gave a perfect view.

“I’m almost through,” he said. “Here. Hold the edges apart for me.”

She nodded again and laid her hands on her belly, gently separating the lips of the wound, watching the raw architecture of her body emerge. Who in the world had done this before? Who had seen themselves like this?

He made another decisive cut, and now the blade exposed a thin, translucent membrane that clung to the layers of fat and muscle above. “Just keep holding that for me.” Laying down the scalpel, he reached for the instrument cart. “Good girl.” God, his voice was so _comforting_. Doctor’s voice, doctor’s hands. Maybe someday he would be a famous surgeon.

Now he brought out a pair of stainless-steel scissors. Carefully, he slipped one of the blades into a small nick in the membrane, then snipped cleanly along the midline of the now-gaping wound until it had parted completely and Lily could see what lay underneath.

She almost forgot she was holding the incision open as she stared into it, eyes wide. Her entrails lay in her opened belly like a cupful of curdled milk: a coiled nest of intestines, richly lined with crimson networks of blood vessels and pale patches of fat. A little higher, towards her rib cage, lay the solid purple-red mass of her liver. The organs moved gently, shifting with her rapid breathing and the quickening pulses of her heart.

“Fuck.” Dan was looking too. His composure faltered a little as he laid down the scalpel and stared at the opening: Lily noticed that his forehead was beaded with sweat, and when she turned her head she saw a bulge in the crotch of his green hospital trousers.

She tried to keep her grip on the sides of the incision, still mesmerized by the secret parts of her own body. “Can I touch?” she asked softly.

“Oh.” With an effort, he seemed to regain his focus. “Yeah. Yeah. Hold on, let me just– ” From the cart, he lifted a steel retractor with two broad hooks. “Hold still.” He fitted the hooks over the lips of the wound so that they pushed it open. “There. You can let go.”

She nodded, and reached carefully inside to lay a hand on a loop of intestine. It felt like soft jelly, startlingly warm under her palm.

Dan ran his hand over the smooth, broad surface of her liver, then reached across and gripped her fingers tightly. Blood smeared the white surfaces of the surgical gloves. She looked up, and met his eyes as he lowered his mask with his other hand and bent down to kiss her again.

They stayed like that for a few seconds, holding hands, lips touching. His tongue brushed against her mouth, and she reciprocated, feeling wrapped in warmth, safe and loved in this room where she lay opened like a flower. Wellesley could wait. Boston could wait. This was what she’d come here for.

Dan broke the kiss after a few moments and let her hand go. “Okay. I’m gonna start working on your liver.” His voice was soft, as if he could still sense the feeling and didn’t want to disrupt it. “This is the hard part. I need you to help me, okay?”

Lily nodded again.

He passed her a pair of forceps from the instrument cart. “Just do what I say, baby. Follow me and it’ll be over soon.”

“I don’t want it to be over,” she murmured.

She could see by his eyes that he was smiling. “I’ll try not to go too quickly.”

The next two or three hours passed in a slow, smeary blur. It soon became clear that this was real work, challenging and unsexy, and a tense silence settled over the kitchen. Dan’s gloved hands pushed and lifted her viscera as he muttered instructions to her, asking her to lift up this bit of tissue, clamp off that blood vessel, help pass this thread through. He made tiny, precise cuts through ligaments and membranes, sometimes with a scalpel blade, sometimes with other implements she couldn’t identify.

It grew to feel otherworldly, lying there on the kitchen counter with her organs exposed and her own hands working deep inside her abdominal cavity. In between tensely whispered directions and painfully delicate procedures, she caught sight of the cereal boxes on the counter, the Nintendo Switch by the TV, and thought that the sight was surreal, disjointed; those prosaic, everyday objects felt deeply out of place in this bloody tableau.

As time passed, the operations seemed to gradually shift in nature, from slicing through ligaments and probing with forceps, to closing off blood vessels with sutures and cutting them too, to finally carving apart the deep red meat of the liver itself. When blood spilled inside Lily’s abdomen, Dan absorbed it with sponges or gauze, or suctioned it out with a syringe. She saw beads of sweat on his face again, and his brow was furrowed and his eyes narrowed with concentration. Her own hands, too, began to ache as the procedure dragged on.

Finally, he made the last cut and placed the final stitch. Ever so gently, he got his hands around the excised section of liver, lifted it out of her body, and placed it on a metal tray on the countertop.

Working quicker now, he began sewing up the incision itself. Lily almost wanted to protest, but didn’t. Instead, she watched in the mirror as the heavy black sutures drew the layers of her flesh back together in reverse order –  first muscle, then fat, and then skin – and her living entrails finally vanished from sight.

Dan dropped the forceps he had been holding back on the instrument cart, leaned against the kitchen counter, lowered his mask, and let out a long breath. “Fuck.” He squeezed her hand. “We did it.”

*****

For a while, they just sat there, resting and trying to take in what they had done. Dan went to the fridge and got a beer, then settled down on a kitchen stool. Behind the drawn blinds, the sounds of nighttime San Francisco filtered up from the street.

Lily kept lying on the countertop, not really moving. The IV line stayed in her back. She breathed deeply, looking up at the flickering fluorescent lights.

“Do you want a beer?” Dan finally asked.

“Huh? No, I’m good.” She gazed at the piece of her liver he had put on the tray. It was an irregular, flattish piece of flesh about the size of a softball and the color of spilled red wine. “Thanks,” she said. With a small smile, she leaned back on the cushion. “That was great.”

“ _You_ were great.” Tugging off his latex gloves, he gently brushed her hair out of her face. “I’m really glad it was good for you.”

She nodded at the tray. “We still get to eat that.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I’ll go put it in the fridge soon. I’m gonna do this great recipe with onions–  I mean, it’s for cow livers originally, but– ” He stroked her hair again. “I think yours is gonna taste just fine.”

The excitement in his voice made her happy. “I bet it will.”

He walked around the island, gazing at her semi-nude, bloodied body, at the heavy line of stitches running down her torso. “You know,” he said, with a sheepish smile, “it might be a little hard to go back to hentai and guro after this.”

“Don’t turn into a serial killer on me,” she said. “I’d miss you if you got sent to prison.”

“Well, um…” he said. “Do you know anyone else who wants to get vivisected?”

She laughed, and he did as well. Then she crossed her legs and said, “Dan.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to fuck me now?”

For a second, he hesitated. He seemed a little taken aback, as if he hadn’t been expecting her to ask at all. Then, in a low, hurried voice, he said, “Yeah.”

Lily shifted forward on the counter until her legs dangled over the edge. She pushed at the hem of her panties and met his eye. “Come on, then.”

Leaning down over the counter, he kissed her shyly.

She kissed back harder. “Are you gonna get undressed?”

“Yeah. Hold on.” He started stripping off his scrubs. First, he pulled off his cap and bloodstained shirt, revealing his tough, toned body, so clean and unmarred next to hers. Then he eased her underwear down her legs.

“Don’t bother,” she told him, when he reached towards her pussy. “Epidural. Remember?”

“Oh,” he said. “Then are you sure you want to– ”

“Yes, Dan. Fuck me.”

Fumbling, he started to take off his pants. His cock was already hard. “Are you– ”

“Yes, I’m on the pill.”

“Okay.”

The counter was at the perfect height. He barely had to change position at all, shifting forward and carefully guiding himself into her as she spread her legs for him.

“Good?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes closed. Slowly, taking care not to bump against the side of the counter, he gripped her shoulders and started to thrust.

Lily felt nothing at all, but kept her eyes fixed on Dan’s face, noting every sigh, every pant, every flutter of his eyelids. She put all her effort into the performance, meeting his gaze with a centerfold smile, keeping her legs spread, pushing back against each thrust. The sutures in her stomach would probably ache later. So what?

It was steady, forceful, rhythmic sex fueled by three hours of built-up tension and anxiety. As the minutes passed, she started adding little gasps and moans of her own, biting her lip, half-closing her eyes. He met her gaze, breathing hard like an athlete as he pushed deep inside her. His muscular chest glistened with sweat and his eyes were wide. He looked _so_ turned on. She didn’t care that she couldn’t feel anything.

_Yes, Dan, that’s me, I’m your fuck doll, I’ve got what you want, let out all of that stress. I’m better than the other girls, I’m a treat, I’m a prize, come on Dan fuck me._

At Wellesley, she was nothing, loser girl, cutter girl, crazy, no future. But here, lying on this hard marble countertop, she was a fantasy come to life.

And just knowing that was enough.

He came hard after twenty or so minutes, gasping, staring up and over her, shuddering against her as he managed a few final thrusts. She lay back against the cushion and took it, feeling invincible. A blissful smile crossed her face as he finished.

*****

Three days later, the sun was starting to set over the bay, and gold-tinged light from the windows threw shadows across the freshly vacuumed and tidied apartment. The sheets that had draped the counter and the other pieces of medical waste were stuffed into a trash bag labeled with a biohazard symbol in the corner of the kitchen, ready for disposal at the UCSF hospital.

Lily lay in the spare bed, propped up against a pile of down pillows, wearing a Pusheen the Cat t-shirt and plaid boxer shorts. She’d spent the past 72 hours mostly in the same position, watching _Breaking Bad_ on her laptop and eating ice cream.

The sutures ached and itched, as she’d expected, but the OxyContin Dan had stolen from work kept any worse pain away. In general, the aftereffects of the surgery had been mild: cramps, nausea, a bit of a headache. Dan had stayed home from lectures to take care of her, and occasionally came into the room with a cup of tea or more medication.

Her classmates were posting their own spring breaks all over Instagram and Twitter. Marta from Intro Biology was in Paris, posing in front of the Invalides army museum and taking artistic photos of expensive dinners. Her old roommate Laura had uploaded a series of bar selfies and beachfront shots from her own trip to Cancun.

She scrolled past them idly, still drifting on a warm, sunlit high from her last dose of painkillers. The other girls could have their fancy trips. She wasn’t jealous.

A light tap sounded from the doorway. Lily looked up from her laptop, closing the lid. “Come in?”

“It’s me.” Dan nudged the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. He was carrying two steaming plates of meat and vegetables, and had a bottle of Dr. Pepper tucked under his arm.

“Ooh, hello,” said Lily. She pushed her computer off her lap and sat up straighter in bed. “Is that, um… me?”

Dan grinned as he set the plates down on the nightstand. “Yeah.”

“It looks tasty.”

“Hopefully it is.” He laid the soda bottle next to the plates. “I’m just gonna go get some cups and silverware. One second.”

“Okay.”

Once he’d left, she reached over and rummaged in her makeup bag, got out a tube of lipstick, and quickly swiped some on. She wasn’t going to do this without at least getting dressed up a little bit.

Dan came back in a few moments later, carrying plates, cups, and napkins. “Oh, um, I hope you like that brand,” he said, indicating the soda. “I was just thinking about it. I figured maybe we should avoid alcohol until your liver’s healed a bit.”

“Dr. Pepper’s fine.” Lily shifted on the bed to make room for him.

“Cool.” He settled down next to her, passed her a plate and silverware, then reached for his own. “Okay, so I soaked the meat in milk, coated it in flour and spices, and pan-fried it with some onions.”

“Yum.”

“I wish I could say I got the idea somewhere cool, but actually it was just the first thing that came up when I googled ‘liver recipes’, so…”

“Shut up, I bet I taste great,” said Lily. She glanced down at the plate in her lap, the fried pieces of juicy, steaming liver. It would have looked like any other sliced meat, like beef in pho at a Vietnamese place - if the dull ache in her abdomen hadn’t nudged at her, reminding her otherwise.

“I bet you do.” He picked up his fork. “Do you want the first bite, then?”

“You did all the work,” she said. “Go ahead.”

“C’mon, don’t you want to taste yourself before I do?”

“Hmm.” She speared a piece of meat on her fork and held it up, looking it over. “Okay.” Experimentally, she took a bite. Her flesh was rich and salty, coated with oil from the frying pan, and her body accepted it easily as she swallowed.

Dan watched intently as she chewed.  “What do you think?”

“I think I’m fucking delicious.” Scooping up some onions and another bit of liver, she smiled and took another bite.

“Hmm.” He forked some into his mouth. A grin spread across his face as he chewed slowly, savoring the food, and Lily felt a strange satisfaction as she watched him swallow.

“Good?” she asked.

“You’re perfect, baby.”

They ate quietly for a quarter of an hour or so, taking small bites, extracting every last morsel of enjoyment from the meal they’d worked so hard for. When they were finished, they stacked the dirty dishes on the nightstand and sat together on the bed drinking soda. Lily asked Dan to go get another tub of ice cream from the freezer, and he brought in a pint of chocolate.

“So what now?” she asked after a few minutes.

“Well,” said Dan. He put his plastic cup aside. “I guess I should say once you get home- if you notice swelling, or pus, or anything around the stitches, or if you have really bad pain in your stomach or a fever, go to the ER.”

“What should I tell them?” she asked, taking a spoonful of ice cream. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“Say you had an unlicensed medical procedure. Tell the truth if you have to.” He reached for his cup and took another sip. “But make sure you go. I’d much rather get caught for reckless endangerment or whatever than have something happen to you.”

She nodded. “And I’d really rather you get caught for that than for manslaughter.”

“Exactly. Yeah,” he said. “And- I probably don’t need to say this, but otherwise don’t talk about this. Even anonymously online.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to reveal your secret.”

Dan smiled. “Just wanted to make sure.”

They sat together a little longer. Lily leaned against Dan, still eating from the pint of ice cream. Sometimes he reached over and took the spoon from her and ate her spoonful himself. The sun sank lower over the horizon, casting pink and gold rays over a light scattering of clouds. Soon the day would be done, and not long after that spring break would end, and she would be on a plane back to Boston and her ordinary life.

Eventually, she put the ice cream aside and reached for his hand on the coverlet. “I guess I should say thank you,” she said. “For everything.”

“Don’t thank me. I loved it.” He squeezed her hand back. “I hope I gave you the _experience_ you were looking for.”

“Come on.” She smiled, looking at the bedspread. “You know you did.”

“Do you feel…” He hesitated. “Do you feel any better about your future, and all that?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess it’ll take a while to figure things out. But I’m okay waiting.”

“Is there anything much you’re looking forward to?” he asked. “Anything coming up that you know you’re excited about?”

She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know I have your phone number.”

And they watched the sun go down over the bay, lying together in the rosy light, lazily watching the world hurrying along far below.

 


End file.
